


Erised

by Dekalkomania



Series: DP Side Hoes Week 2021 [1]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: dp side hoes week, magical object
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29907474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dekalkomania/pseuds/Dekalkomania
Summary: Up to this point, Lancer had believed his life had gone well.His reflection told him otherwise.
Series: DP Side Hoes Week 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2199153
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Erised

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for character being a bit ooc due to magical influence. 
> 
> Think Tucker in "What You Want" type

He’d found the mirror at an antique shop.

From what he’d been told, it had belonged to the seller’s grandmother, but had been decidedly put to rest and added to their inventory. The moment he’d seen it, it had drawn his attention, with its ornate golden frame making it look as if it belonged in the Palace of Versailles. Lancer had to hand it to the woman, she had great taste, and her granddaughter wasn’t too shabby with the deals either. 

It would fit in well in his home, he had thought, until it was time to shave and he noticed something very off. 

“ _ War of the worlds _ …”

He stood in his bathroom, gaze flickering between his new handheld mirror and the one on his medicine cabinet. On the regular one, he saw himself, towel over his shoulder and wet face. He looked like he did every other night. The image he saw when he checked the other reflection was definitely not him as he was.

Instead, he saw himself with a full head of hair, a few pounds lighter, and wearing a much happier smile. As he moved, his other self moved too, but even that didn’t match. He hadn’t exuded that much confidence in years, not after more than a decade of teaching. As if reacting to his thoughts, the image suddenly shifted, reflecting back a scene from his past. 

His mirror self was on his phone with his agent. Despite the image having no sound, he knew the event well, and deflated in defeat as he dreaded what came next. His manuscript had been rejected by multiple companies, and it became the day he caved in and decided to become a teacher. It had seemed like a noble act then. He even remembered thinking how nice it would be to help mold young minds. But now, seeing it play out, he couldn’t help but think it an act of someone giving up. 

He was about to put it away, not wanting to see the change in his expression, before something strange happened. Rather than the crestfallen look he recalled, the mirror showed him jumping with glee, the reaction of someone who’d  _ succeeded. _ His younger self picked up his manuscript and held it to his chest, while he distinctly remembered having locked it up to never see it again. 

Thinking to himself, Lancer decided that shaving could wait for later and headed over to his bedroom. If this magical artifact could show him this, maybe it could show him everything else his life could have become. 

* * *

He had not slept very long, entranced by the display on the mirror. As he had kept watching, it played all that he had ever dreamt of in life. The stories he wanted to publish, the financially stable future, and even his hope of finding love and starting a family. He had gotten married before, but it had ended in divorce when it was clear they were not truly made for each other. In this new reality, him and his wife had stayed together, even moving to a small town in Europe. 

Lancer noted that the more he thought about something, the more he was shown it in the absolutely best light. When he considered purchasing a home, it flickered and landed on a beautiful townhouse adorned with greenery and charming metal fencing. If he thought of a new car, it showed him the classic white Volvo he’d wanted as a kid. 

It was addicting, and he’d only snapped out of it at 4 A.M. when his stomach grumbled for a late night snack. He wasn’t even sure if he’d had dinner, now that he thought about it. Two hours later, when he’d gotten all the sleep he could get, he’d paused at the door, walking back to the room and slipping the mirror into his suitcase. 

Now, standing in front of his class, he decided that he was very much not in the mood to teach today. His lesson plan, which he had so painstakingly organized the previous week, seemed for nothing as he glanced over and saw twenty-five disinterested faces. Had it been any other day, he would’ve noticed his usual attentive crowd at the front watching him in anticipation, or even the usual rowdy bunch putting away their phones. Even Daniel Fenton was making his best attempt at staying awake when it was clear that he was exhausted. 

Today, those were things that he did not see, and so in a style that was usually not his, he announced to the class that they would be watching a movie. Part of him felt bitter at their enthusiastic response, but he supposed that’s what he should’ve expected after so obviously failing them as an educator. 

As he started up the film, he saw a student’s hand shoot up into the air, confusion evident. 

“Yes, Samantha?”

“I thought we would be watching Hamlet? Since that’s what we’re reading right now.” 

There were a few other nods throughout the class, and Lancer sighed. “Think of it as a break from the material. We’ll get back on track tomorrow.” 

Playing whatever it was he had chosen, he hadn’t really been paying attention, Lancer plopped back onto his chair and pulled out his mirror. He figured it was only fair that he was entertained as well, picking off where the scene had last ended. He was back at his fantasy home, watching the sunset with his wife as they sat having a picnic on a grassy hill. A soft smile played across his face as he saw how the wind played with her hair. 

Teaching could wait, he thought, ignoring the concerned looks thrown his way. Tomorrow, he promised again, he would be back to normal.

* * *

Three days passed, when his excuse of finishing the film had finally been worn thin. He was in the middle of experiencing a celebratory dinner with his colleagues over another successful release, but was interrupted by an exasperated call. He looked up and met eyes with Star, who was wearing a barely concealed frown. 

“Yes?” He couldn’t help the slightly irritated tone that seeped into his voice. 

“The movie finished like five minutes ago,” she supplied. “And I was kind of wondering if we could go over the material from Monday? Since we have the test tomorrow and all.” 

Huh, he had completely forgotten about that. He weighed the consequences of moving it to another day, and then stopped himself. Never in his career had he changed the date on a major test unless it was absolutely necessary. Usually that was reserved for days where lessons had been completely interrupted by ghost attacks, or individual exceptions made for students who had emergencies. 

Growing wary of the object in his hand, he shut the textbook he’d been hiding it behind and stuffed it into his bag. He couldn’t let his whole life be decided by what could have been, he attempted to convince himself. There were responsibilities he had to take care of. 

With an apologetic smile, he switched gears and unpacked his notes. “You’re right, Star. Thank you for the reminder. If you’ll all take out your books, we can go over any questions you have over acts one and two.”

He didn’t miss the enthusiastic way in which his students did just that, feeling a pang in his chest at not having prepared them as much as he could’ve in the past week. He decided then that he would destroy the mirror once he got home. Just then, he had to worry about maintaining the class average and sending them home with a grade they would be proud to show their parents. 

He kept this in mind, trying to force out all other thoughts in favor of a new goal. He told himself that it worked, though he would often drift off into now familiar greenery and gentle caresses. 

* * *

Friday’s final period of the day had gone by and Lancer was immensely relieved that it was over. He still had many test papers to grade, but doing so at home with a cup of tea and relaxing music would be much more pleasant in comparison to the rest of his day. The anxiety in the classroom had been intense, which was the norm for written assignments, but it still had him on edge. Whatever the result was, he hoped it wasn’t too low. The guilt would be too much for him.

As he entered his car, he heard a crash in the distance, not too far from where he’d parked. When he scanned the area, he could see green light being shot from the football field, no doubt belonging to Phantom. Part of him wanted to drive away, leave the clean up to him, but the greater half was too worried about a student being in potential danger to do it. 

They were no longer in football season, but they still tended to stick around with their friends at the bleachers. Were it him in their shoes, he would leave campus the second classes were over, it being one of the biggest ghostly hot spots in Amity. He understood their need for a somewhat normal high school experience though, and slowly drove his way past the field in case he saw any stragglers. 

It didn’t take long until he saw them crouching behind Phantom. Dash and Kwan were left with nowhere else to run, while their ghostly hero valiantly tried to keep them shielded from the metal hunter. With his attention split between fighting and keeping the damage away from the teens, it was clear that Phantom was struggling. If only he could get them out, then the fight would soon be over. 

Hopping out of his car, Lancer popped his trunk to grab one of the Fenton contraptions that the school had given them. It was a portable ghost shield, with a radius large enough to fit a few people. He switched it on, hoping that it would be a quick run in and get out ordeal. Bracing himself for a quick sprint, and hoping that his bad knee wouldn’t interfere too much, he booked it onto the field, trying his best to not catch the hunter’s attention. 

“Give in, ghost child!” The hunter grinned, ammunition appearing at his shoulders. “It’s only a matter of time before you lose this battle.”

“Not a chance,” Phantom’s eyes widened slightly when he caught sight of him, but other than that, he showed no other indication that he was there. In an attempt to take attention away from the teacher, he aimed his next few shots at the other ghost’s weapons, having some success. “Maybe next time you should grease your armor before coming out here, seems a little rusty.” 

Taking advantage of his stalling, Lancer hurriedly urged the students to duck under the shield. “We’re going to be a bit slower on the way back. This thing doesn’t stretch incredibly far, but if we hurry, we can make it.” 

“What about Dale?” Kwan’s voice was tinged with panic. “Me and Dash were supposed to go grab some food. He stayed behind the bleachers!” 

Lancer looked over to the opposite side of the field, spotting said student observing them on the bleachers near the entrance of the ticket booth. As long as they exited the field, they should be fine. Luckily the area had multiple exits, and with the shield up, they should be able to make it out safely. 

“Alright, we’ll go get him and once we make it out, I can drive you over to your cars.” They would have to go around further, but it was better than leaving someone behind. 

Staying the closest they could to the center of the shield, their small group shuffled over to the other student. Lancer noticed Phantom’s subtle shifting, keeping his back facing them at all times. With the knowledge that they were being protected by something other than a thin barrier, he felt more comfortable increasing their speed. 

Once they were a short walking distance away, Dale rushed his way over, sending a grateful thanks in each of their directions. “Guess I gotta pay more attention in class now, right Mr. Lancer?” 

“It would be appreciated,” he responded, feeling pretty good about himself. Perhaps this pride is what kept their town hero going. 

“Um, guys,” Dash’s hand tapped nervously at Lancer’s shoulder. “Big metal dude is staring right at us, we gotta run!” 

Sure enough, the ghost’s eyes were trained directly on them, smirk taking up his features as he prepared a blast. Composure seconds from breaking, Lancer urged them to go forward. The gate was only a few steps away when his leg chose that moment to give in, an uncharacteristic curse escaping him. 

Knowing he wouldn’t be getting up soon, he told the students to go ahead. 

“No way! Dale can grab your car, we’ll help you up. Did you leave it on?” At Lancer’s nod, Dash grabbed one of his arms. “Kwan, help me out here!”

The other jock rushed forward, picking up the fallen, but still thankfully working shield control. From the edge of his vision, he saw Dale running at full speed from outside the field. Hope swelled inside him, believing that maybe they could really make it out on time, when a blast of heat flew towards them. Him and the students ducked, watching in horror as the shield broke to pieces. None of them sustained any burns, but he knew that the next blast could be their end. 

He placed himself in front of the football players, shaking. The next missile was heading towards them, and he prepared to face it head on, until a white and black figure appeared in the line of fire and wailed. The group crouched down, covering their ears from the force of Phantom’s scream. Lancer had secretly always thought it was a cool feature of his powers, but now that he was near it, he had to admit he understood why it was hardly used. 

It was an unstable thing, tearing up bits of grass across the field and barely having any specific scope. It was either get out of the way, or be caught in its destruction. The metal ghost was thrown back by its strength, armor tearing off in pieces and smug attitude replaced entirely by fear. Once he was sure he was down, Phantom turned back to them, voice strained as his form seemed to glitch. Every once in a while, a white ring would flicker to life and then shut off. 

“Go,” he rasped, falling to the ground and fumbling for his thermos. 

Dash seemed uncertain to leave, his respect for Phantom being common knowledge even among the teachers. Still, sensing that staying would do more harm than good, Lancer nudged him and his friend over to the gate. In the time they’d been attacked, Dale had managed to move the car right outside the entrance, reaching over to open the door for him. 

“Glad to see you guys made it out fine,” he grinned, expression quickly darkening at the crash shaking the ground back at the field. Looking over, Lancer saw that one of the metal ghost’s weapons had survived the damage, going off automatically now that its owner was down. Their view was somewhat obscured, but he could tell that Phantom had been left much too weak to hold up a strong enough shield. 

Dale pulled the car forward, catching sight of Phantom sucking the ghost into his thermos, and then vanishing entirely along with it. None of them mentioned the gaping wound dripping ectoplasm down his side. 

* * *

Despite Lancer’s best attempts, he wasn’t able to entirely focus on the tests before him. The events of the day kept playing in his head, and although he managed to save the students, he felt to blame for nearly getting them caught in the line of fire in the first place. When he was younger, he was one of the football players himself, able to run for miles without getting wary. Sure, he wasn’t the star quarterback, but he was still pretty good, balancing his secret interest in literature with maintaining his physique. Even throughout college, he was a great long-distance runner, at least until his injury. 

He leaned back and sighed, thinking of how twenty years had truly done a number on him. The thoughts led him back to thinking of the mirror he still had tucked into his suitcase, the one he said he would destroy, but couldn’t bring himself to touch. It hadn’t crossed his mind for a whole day and a half. A little escapism wouldn’t cause too much harm, right? 

Not allowing himself to sit on it, he reached over and pulled out the textbook, wondering if perhaps the pressure had broken it. Comforted at seeing it in one piece, he held it in front of him and waited, only to be given an unpleasant surprise. The scene did not depict what he last saw, instead it was showing the events that had transpired just a few hours ago that day. 

This version though, showed a stronger William Lancer, the one he saw when he first looked into the mirror. The man parked on the side of the field Dale was in, somehow knowing that he would be there, telling him to get in while he saved his friends. He was doing a much better job at protecting his students, sprinting across the field without his awkward gait. 

When he led Kwan and Dash to the entrance, he came prepared with an ecto gun, firing it at the metal ghost, rather than stand like a sitting duck. He was heroic, he was a great teacher, and he kept Phantom from being injured. The town hero had even taken the time to thank him, awed at the natural fighting ability the Better Lancer had. 

It was painful to watch, a reminder of all his shortcomings and different scenarios he’d played through his head already. He should’ve tossed the mirror there and then, kept the damage to his person to a minimum, but a pain in his chest kept him from doing so. 

Setting aside his tea, he curled up more comfortably in his chair and watched as each and every mistake he’d ever made was given a better ending.

* * *

Come Monday, Lancer found himself in a similar rut as he was in during the movie fiasco. He couldn’t for the life of him get any motivation to teach, trapped in his beliefs that anything he did would never be good enough. Over the weekend, the mirror had taken to showing him a class thriving under superior tutelage. It showed him ways that he wasn’t engaging enough, or failed to promote good class discussion. 

The Better Lancer, as well as being a great author and husband, was even a good candidate for taking his job. Nothing he ever did would compare, and a part of him was ashamed to admit he` was jealous of a fictional creation. There came other repercussions to this as well, an ugly side he had never seen existing within him. 

Walking into his first period, he looked over his class with a spite he had never felt towards them before. Either they were the source of his pride, or a minor pain in the butt. Never had he had the urge to simply give up on them and leave. Here he was, wishing with all his might that he could go back into his past and relive it the  _ right  _ way, while the teens sat in front of him unaware of the privilege they had to choose whatever path they wanted. 

Knowing that was impossible, he wished he could simply play another film and live the rest of his days vicariously through his mirror. Never making mistakes, never having regrets. But it simply couldn’t come to be, not when life was so insistent on giving him obstacles. 

He buried his head in his hands, lost in the recesses of his mind, unbeknownst of the presence lingering awkwardly by his side. Had it not been for the quiet coughing, he may have ignored them altogether. 

Wearing an uncharacteristically thick sweatshirt, stood Daniel Fenton, small yet very genuine smile playing across his face. “Um, hi.”

“Is there something you need, Mr. Fenton?” Lancer tried to maintain a neutral expression.

“Sorta?” He played with the hem of his sleeve, avoiding eye contact. “I just um, I heard about what happened last week. With Phantom and Sk-uh, the hunter ghost.” 

“Oh?” Though he attempted at sounding interested, Lancer was more upset than anything. He knew he hadn’t handled the situation well, he didn’t need a reminder from the ghost hunters’ child. 

Apparently not noticing a change, Daniel continued. “Yeah, I was actually there? You probably didn’t see me, you know how I am around ghosts. But I saw what happened, and I wanted to tell you that you were pretty cool. Helping Phantom.” 

“Thank you. Is that all?” 

Finally catching his mood, he took a step back. “Um, yeah. Are you-”

“Take a seat, Daniel. Class will begin soon.” Leaving no room for conversation, Lancer stood up and began writing the day’s plan on the board. He wrote with extra care, waiting until he no longer saw him there, and then turned to begin the day. 

The class went by rather slowly for him, and though he added an enthusiastic inflection to every word, even he noticed it sounded artificial. Thankfully, there were some students who answered multiple of his questions, keeping the lesson going along. For that he was grateful, but again, filled with mild irritation at having to get aid from a group of sophomores. 

The entire time, he could feel Daniel’s gaze trained on him, performing a strange routine of checking his breath behind his hand. What he was searching for, Lancer had no clue, but it was unnerving to be watched so closely. By the time the period finished, he was at his wits end, pulling out the textbook with the hidden mirror so that he could travel someplace where going through the motions wouldn’t be so hard. 

Unfortunately, he was once again met with the sight of Daniel pausing by his desk, this time with a much more assertive stance. “Mr. Lancer, I was gonna ask before, but are you okay?”

Sighing, he set his items aside. “I’m fine, though I would really prefer to focus on class-related questions right now.”

Daniel seemed to think for a second, looking over his shoulder where he hadn’t noticed his two friends stood. “Then, can I ask how the test went?” 

It was obvious he was trying to keep the conversation going, possibly trying to veer it back to the topic he really wanted to talk about. Or maybe he’d only been nice so that he could convince the teacher to give him a higher grade. Lancer knew he wasn’t like that, typically taking his results without complaint. But the teacher wasn’t in a rational state, and so he came off much more defensive than he intended to be. 

“I haven’t finished grading them,” he responded, stiff. “And unless for some reason you expect a better result, I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

That got a reaction out of him, Daniel’s eyes narrowing slightly. “Who says I need to hold my breath?”

_ What an odd response. _

“Well, I have no reason to believe that your score is going to be very high.” That was a lie, a part in the back of his head prodded at him. Daniel had shown to be a bright student on many occasions, efforts paying off exceptionally as of late. Why he was saying that, he had absolutely no clue.

“Danny,” Samantha stepped forward, grabbing firmly at his arm. She was glaring intensely in Lancer’s direction, but clearly holding back for her friend’s sake. 

Stubbornly refusing to move, he yanked it out of her grasp, clutching his side at the sudden movement. “I get the whole school tries to paint me as some slacker, but I do try. You haven’t even gotten to grading mine, how would you know I didn’t pass?”

He had planned to apologize right then, remorse for his words building at a rapid pace, but his mouth moved almost on its own accord. It was as if someone else was speaking through him, using his body like some type of awful megaphone. 

“You can’t blame people for expecting the worst of you when all you’ve given us is disappointment.” He clenched his fists under the desk, confusion furrowing his brow. Had that really been him? 

He held his lips shut tight, afraid of what else could come out unbidden, as he watched Daniels’s expression crumple. He looked absolutely devastated, posture deflating and wiping away any semblance of confidence. It only lasted a quick moment, but it was enough to cement to Lancer that he was the most awful teacher to ever walk the earth. 

He couldn’t blame Daniel when he muttered an angry, “Whatever, like I cared what you thought anyway.”

The boy stalked out of the room, followed closely by a barely contained Samantha, shutting the door so hard that the desk itself seemed to shake. It was enough movement that his textbook fell to the ground, mirror skidding out from within it and clattering at Tucker’s feet. Why he had lingered, the teacher wasn’t sure. 

Quietly, Foley bent down to pick up the dropped items, gaze lingering on the mirror as he held it. His eyes shot from Lancer to the handheld, an epiphany dawning on him, before he placed it back on his desk and stuttered a quick, “I’m just g-gonna go.”

He ran out, not quite as furious as his other friends had been, but with frantic steps nonetheless. Lancer meanwhile felt the full blow of his actions hitting him, slumping into his seat.

“ _ Paradise Lost,  _ what have I done?”

* * *

Two years of trying to get his student to open up, to feel comfortable seeking assistance with his assignments, and he had flushed it all down the drain. Daniel had even gotten over his resentment of the detentions, once Lancer had made it clear they were really an excuse to fit in study sessions. They weren’t even reported on his record, not unless the cause was an actual behavioral problem. 

He had made every effort to make school feel like a safe space, tried to better himself as a person when a valiant student let him know that he was favoring the athletes. He admired her bravery then, wishing he had the same courage to face his own demons. Instead, he had taken them out on Daniel, for absolutely no reason whatsoever except that he had been the first to approach him. 

And to think that the boy had only initially wanted to express his admiration, Lancer might as well quit now that he’d proved he really was not made for the job. 

He sat in his office and wallowed in his thoughts, halfway through planning out his resignation letter, when there was a knock on the door. He frowned, wondering how someone managed to get past the reception, when he had specifically asked them to not allow anyone in. Thinking it may be an emergency, he told them it was open. 

Not at all who he had been expecting, Tucker Foley walked into the room. He looked rather wary, a reaction that made Lancer feel even more guilty, approaching with caution. 

“Mr. Foley, how did you manage to get in?” 

“Eh, I have my ways. Hope you don’t mind.” Without awaiting a response, he sat himself across from Lancer. “It is actually pretty important, what I have to tell you.”

“Are you not upset for how I treated your friend?” He’d seen how protective the two had been of Daniel in the past, a type of loyalty that was rare to find in high school.

“I wouldn’t say I’m totally okay with it. Even with what I figured out, I still have the urge to do some illegal things to your emails.” At Lancer’s fearful gaze, he quickly backtracked. “Not that I will, obviously. Ha.” He took a second to fix his composure and then continued. “This is about that mirror of yours, can I see it?”

Lancer couldn’t help the apprehension that welled up inside him. “And why should I give it to you?”

Tucker frowned, showing that there really was a thin line between his jovial attitude and one of vengeance. “Gee I don’t know, maybe ‘cause you were totally out of line today, and I might know the reason why?”

Not having a proper answer to that, Lancer gave in, pulling the object out from where he’d stuffed it within his desk. He handed it to the student, inspecting his expression. He didn’t react except to look into his reflection and hum. 

“You know, the ladies here don’t know what they’re missin’.” He stroked his jawline and winked into the mirror. “I could fit into a museum with this face.” He shrugged. “But anyway, that’s not the point. Do you know what this is, Mr. Lancer?”

“It’s a mirror,” he supplied, not keen to say anything more. At his student’s dubious expression, he sighed. “A magic mirror?”

Seemingly content to not be on the receiving end of giving dubious questions, Foley smiled. “Kinda, it’s more like a mirror that shows you your deepest desires. I’ve stumbled across something like this before. Two times actually, the first was when this evil genie granted me the ability to be a ghost, and the second was when a mummy mistook me for the pharaoh and gave me his scepter.” 

Had Lancer not lived in Amity, he would’ve assumed this was all one big story from Foley’s imagination. “Don’t mind me for questioning you, but you look, well, normal.”

“That’s ‘cause both times ended really badly.” His expression was still lighthearted, but his eyes shone with a bittersweet emotion. “The powers seemed pretty great at first, but then they started consuming me. It’s like every negative emotion I’ve ever felt was multiplied by a thousand, I was becoming someone else.” He tapped on the surface of his reflection. “Like right now, this thing is showing me as some kind of rich millionaire with my own tech company. I’m not even out of high school yet, how unrealistic is that? But it’s tempting to keep looking, and soon enough it messes with your mind.”

His student’s words brought to mind the obsessive way that he’d begun to rely on the object for a glimpse at happiness. He’d only owned it for a week, and that was all it took for him to snap. The only comfort he had now was that at least there was someone who seemed to understand, to get that he wasn’t truly being himself. 

He waited, sensing there was more to Tucker’s story. 

“You know what the biggest insecurity was that my powers began to pick at?” The boy clenched his hand tighter around the handle. “I had this thing against Danny for the longest time, I was really jealous of him. He can do things I can’t do, and when the magic picked up on that, it started turning me into this crazed green monster. It was awful, I kept attacking him,  _ my best friend _ . If it wasn’t for Phantom, who knows what I would’ve turned into.” 

“And you’re saying that if I keep this thing, it’ll only get worse?” The idea of throwing the mirror away suddenly seemed a whole lot more tempting. 

“Yeah, I mean, you gotta destroy it.” He placed it back onto the desk, facing down. “But the hard part will be after, it’s already latched onto you. You have to figure yourself out first, find the things that make you less envious of an inanimate object.” He made a face. “Look, I hate being sappy, but this has to be said. Magical objects like this tend to attract people with hidden weaknesses. I’m guessing you’ve got some issues with accepting the present and all...ugh I sound like Danny’s sister.” His nose wrinkled some more. “But for me, it helped when I confronted it. Had a whole sit down with my friends and realized, hey Tuck, you’re pretty great too! Neither of my friends take parts of me for granted, so why should I do that to myself? But anyway, you get the point, right?”

“I...I think so.” It would be a gradual process, that he was sure of, but it would be better than going through his days in self-pity. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Tucker snatched the mirror. “And now that I think about it, I think Danny’s parents have something we can use for this. Do you mind if I take it?”   
  


Lancer took the moment for what it was, a test to see whether he really will improve. Without a second thought, he shook his head. “It’s all yours.”

“Great! See you next period.” He made his way to leave, walking at a languid pace towards the door. 

“Wait,” Lancer straightened his shoulders, noting Tucker’s expectant look. “Could you ask Daniel to stop by after school? I owe him a sincere apology.” 

He grinned. “Sure thing, I was kind waiting to see if you would say anything. Might’ve changed my mind about that whole email thing if you hadn’t.” He opened the door halfway, stopping. “And uh, just to let you know, aside from today’s issue, you’re a pretty great teacher. Danny really likes you, I’m sure things’ll clear up.”

Before he could get another word in, the student slipped out of his office, leaving Lancer to contemplate his new discovery in silence. It was strange that the trio seemed to know so much about the supernatural, but he figured that with Daniel’s parents, it was only a matter of time until they picked up some knowledge. 

What truly surprised him was Tucker’s willingness to be vulnerable, especially after such a horrible display he made of himself. It gave him an insight into what made the friend group last for so long. If they reacted that maturely with one another, it made complete sense that they were so close. 

He considered what Tucker had said to him about confronting his emotions, listing the things that made him who he was. Sure, he wasn’t as athletic as he used to be, but even knowing that he would struggle, he still put his life at risk for his students out in the football field. And hey, maybe his manuscript wasn’t accepted when he was in his twenties, so what? He’d gone through so much more in the past few years, enough to try his hand at publishing again. 

He was only in his forties, and there was hopefully still much more ahead of him to live. There was time to find love, or improve his teaching. He didn’t have to be so hard on himself. 

The affirmations didn’t automatically bring him back to normal, but he figured it was a start, already feeling less of a tie to the mirror. Above everything else, he had one very important matter to solve first. He would apologize to Daniel, and then dedicate the rest of his years left in high school to proving that the words he’d said were wrong. 

None of his students were lost causes, and neither was he. 

**Author's Note:**

> What I imagine happens after:
> 
> *Later that day* 
> 
> Tucker: You down for some baseball? *whips out the mirror*
> 
> Danny: *evil glint in his eye that only a teen with misplaced aggression can have* 
> 
> Then they proceed to chuck it into the air and blast it with ectorays/ectoguns


End file.
